


One Last Promise

by sunflower1343



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-13
Updated: 2013-09-13
Packaged: 2017-12-26 10:32:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/964913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower1343/pseuds/sunflower1343
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takaba looks at some photos and reminisces. </p><p>Written Feb, 2008.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Last Promise

I hadn't remembered that time with the dog at the park. You'd think I would, because it was such an unusual thing for us. But I hadn't thought of it for years, and seeing the photo was like a fresh breeze carrying the scent of lilacs in spring. It made me smile of course, but caused my chest to tighten because of the memories it evoked.

We never were that easy, you and I. There was never that pattern that most couples fall into, a relationship becoming more of a thing of habit than something truly desired. You always planned it that way. Boredom, I think, is the one thing that frightened you.

Because of that, you never let us fall into a routine, never let us become the standard couple. Walks in the park were for kids who could break things off every few months and start them anew with someone else. Your refusal to act the boyfriend was a sign of our permanence.

At the time I never realized it though. It bothered me. I took it to mean you didn't care, or that you didn't wish to be my partner in the eyes of the world. It's only now that I see it really meant your devotion was deeper. That you cared so much you would nurture us from the beginning, like a bonsai, shaping us into something unconventional but beautiful. 

You did manage to keep things hidden from me. Before that day I never knew you enjoyed playing with dogs. A useless fact, but it was one among many. Thinking back, at the time I wondered why you didn't have one if you liked it so much. But then dogs require patterns, don't they?

 

\--

 

Ah. This one brings back memories. I caught you coming out of your ladies club downtown. What was the name of it? It's been so long. I don't recall.

But I do recall you stepping out into the cold, a shadow against the bright lights behind you except for a red glow near your lips. You looked like something that had sidled into Tokyo from another world, your black cashmere coat, perfectly tailored of course, swirling in the wind like a cape. 

A vampire cape. 

Not a superhero one.

Despite your body you wouldn't have looked good in that superhero spandex. Some people, Feilong maybe, would say that's because you were more the villain. Magneto had a cape, didn't he? Still, comic book was never your style. Pow, Bang, Bam, those were for American gangsters.

You always seemed a pool of stillness, any movement carefully considered and fully orchestrated. That doesn't mean you couldn't move fast when you wanted to. Just that it wasn't done in explosions of color. A quick strike, like a snake, followed by more stillness, often death. A vampire, yeah.

Vampires are only vulnerable in their heart, aren't they, so they protect it from all harm. Did I ever wound you there when you'd accidentally left an opening? Or would you have planned something like that too? After all, you wounded me so our blood would have intermingled.

That would have been your idea of romance.

 

\--

 

So many photos of you working. It really was your life, wasn't it?

Lots of people would probably think that with all that money you must have spent a lot of time screwing around and having fun. But you just sat and worked harder. 

I never really understood the attraction. It was like a game you couldn't ever win. I've seen t-shirts, "He who dies with the most toys wins." But it was never like that for you. 

Sure, you liked having bigger and better things than other people. Who doesn't? This suit you were wearing, it cost more than what I made all year back then. I think you enjoyed it when you tossed it aside for a new one, just because you could.

But your goal was never to beat others, but to simply outdo what you'd done the day before. Your opponent was life. Where was the prize in that fight? There wasn't one. You'd have known that, so it had to be the challenge. You'd go up against a god if you met one --maybe that's what you're doing now. Maybe that's what it really was. Not life, but the only god in your universe, yourself.

Is that all you were doing from day one, trying to conquer yourself? You always examined yourself minutely, being painstakingly honest about what you found. Except when it came to me of course, though you finally knocked down that barrier as well and admitted it. Though it took a hell of a lot longer for you to admit it to me. If that's what I could call that. 

_"If you know how I feel, then there's no need to say anything more, is there?"_

That always disappointed me. And you knew it. So many things unsaid between us. Yet we always managed to communicate.

 

\--

 

I wonder why I kept this one? You obviously turned away at the wrong moment.

I always thought your back was really sexy. Maybe it was your shoulders. They were so broad and strong it looked like you could support the world on them. In a way you always did. That kind of strength and stubbornness is attractive yet annoying, at least the way you quietly assumed its superiority. But I have to admit that the times I've really been frightened the thought of that back being a wall between me and danger was reassuring. 

Not that I depended on you.

It was just kind of, you know, nice to have to think about.

I think it's why you always let me rest my head there, isn't it? You weren't one for holding hands. But your back, you thought it was impregnable. You could afford to share yourself with me there.

You never realized though that once you had the bullet hole things that you might not have wanted seen had a way of leaking through. 

 

\--

 

Ha. I wonder if you ever saw this one? Probably not, or I'd have ended up with that rabbit stuck somewhere I'd rather not think about. My first candid shot of you sleeping.

Where are the others....? Oh, here.

You never knew about my stash. I always kept multiple copies and backups. Not even your precious Kirishima managed to find these.

Oh this was a good one. You and the horse's head. You just had to make me watch The Godfather one too many times. I really should have used that for my Christmas card. I would have too, if you didn't have those damned nude Santa photos to hold over my head.

Wait a minute...

These are pictures of me! Sleeping with...

You bastard! Oh my God, I can't believe you. That's too funny. Is that...? Up my...? I always wondered that time I saw that empty Giant Pocky box in your garbage can. 

I can imagine your eyes dancing as you took these pictures.

I wonder if you were disappointed that I never found this.

 

\--

 

Another odd one. One of my favorite memories, that night, when we went to my grandparents' and you let them drag us to the festival. I never thought you'd go, but you were so courteous and gentle to them.

I loved you that day. 

Not because you were being different than usual, like some kind of ideal lover I'd dreamt of. I knew you had the ability to blend in anywhere. Courtesy and rudeness were merely weapons at your disposal. I'd seen you be polite before.

But that day I felt you meant it. And that night you told me why.

A man who never explained himself to anyone, you offered up an explanation to me. Did you know what that meant to me? You must have.

I hope you understood how much I loved you. Love you. Never past tense. We're never over. We're forever, you once threatened me, but I took it as a promise, one I've kept. It was the only promise you ever broke.

They say people live on in memories. But it isn't the same. Flat photos make me see and feel and hear you in my head. But if it was the same my heart wouldn't be aching this way.

 

\--

 

He touched a hand to his chest. The pain was becoming unbearable.

The door to the sunroom slid open behind him, startling him, and footsteps that he hadn't heard in years, impossible footsteps, padded up to come to a stop at his back. The scent of tobacco wafted toward him. His heart thudded against his ribs. He didn't dare turn around, because he knew it couldn't be happening. His reminiscing must have brought this on.

A rustle of heavy silk caught him by surprise when the person behind him lowered himself to the tatami. It frightened him, that sound, because it was out of place. Then again, nothing about this was right. He tried to turn but found arms clothed in a rich kimono encircling him and holding him firmly in place. 

The arms were warm. The shock of that and the silk made him look down at the hands clasped at his waist, waiting patiently for something. Shouldn't they be restless and invading? Something wasn't right. He struggled mentally, trying to understand. His body was sluggish, unresponsive.

A chin rested on his left shoulder, breath warm on his neck.

_This can't be real._

"Still trying to resist after all these years?"

_Resist? No, but...._

"You won't win. The game was never set up for you to win."

_But I always had the prize..._

"You're stalling. It's time, Akihito."

_I can't believe any of this._

"Haven't I always kept my word?"

_...Yes._

"Didn't I say it was forever?"

Understanding washed through him carrying away all doubts, bursting through doors he'd never even known were there. 

_Yes. Oh yes._

Tears rolled down his cheeks as he let his body fall back against his lover's chest one last time.

 

\--

 

When the Master's assistant tiptoed into the sunroom the next morning, he was grieved to find his teacher lying there not in sleep as he oft did, but cold and still. He took some small comfort in the fact that Sensei had died as he had enjoyed living, surrounded by the photographs he'd loved, and with a smile on his lips.

As he stood there looking down, wondering what to do, a playful breeze blew in from the gardens, scattering the pictures across the floor. Cursing, he chased them, never hearing the faint laughter on the wind.

 

~end~


End file.
